


Big HLVRAI Backstory Fanfic

by StellarOwl



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Mad Science, Nonhuman Tommy, Not A Game AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarOwl/pseuds/StellarOwl
Summary: The events that led up to the Science Team being who they are, and being together when everything went down. Why does Tommy work in HR even though he made an immortal dog and should clearly be working in Biology? Why does Dr. Coomer's power grow whenever he kills a clone? Why aren't Forzen and Benry best friends anymore?*gameshow announcer voice* All these questions and more will be answered in this story!
Relationships: Forzen & Benrey, Tommy & Benrey, Tommy & Dr. Coomer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Sweet Voice Translation Guide

**Author's Note:**

> I decided one day to write some headcanons about the characters, and I had so many headcanons. And a whole bunch of them were about how the characters got to where they were at the time of the story, and about how certain game-mechanic type things would be interpreted in a Not A Game AU. And then I thought, "Hey. I could write a whole backstory thing using these!" So that's what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon of how Sweet Voice works and how to read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're not going to need this right away, but I figured it might be helpful once we get to some of the Benry POV parts. And I'm putting it here at the beginning so it doesn't interrupt anything.

**First thing you need to know** : Rhymes actually… have nothing to do with it. It’s just a mnemomic device that Tommy uses. And, even his memory tricks don't all rhyme. Example: "purple like a spring evening means he's okay." Tommy just finds things easier to remember if they have a rhyme or strange simile attached to them.

**Sweet Voice comes in three parts: Color, Shade and Movement.**

**Different colors represent different "categories" of emotion**

Magenta/Red/Red-orange: “excitement” range. Anything from meeting your crush, to looking forward to going to a party, to feeling EPIC in a bossfight

Orange/Yellow: the “surprise” range of emotions, which also includes confusion and curiosity

Green: the “comfort/friendship/love” range of emotions. Also is the color of the mind-trick thing, as it can act like the D&D spell “Charm Person”.

Teal/turquoise/cyan: the “health” range. Anything to do with stats, like if you need food or a friend needs a heal-up.

Blue/Purple: the “calm/neutral” range of emotions, anything toned-down. Since Sweet Voice is used to share emotion, it can be used to calm others down as well, or make them fall asleep if the user is powerful enough.

**Shades, tints, and vibrancy represent how positive/negative the emotion being expressed is.**

Bright, vibrant colors are positive, like happiness, calm or excitement. Or they're neutral, like surprise.

White/light/tinted means fear. Benry would probably output a lot of pale pink if he was on a roller coaster, for example.

Gray/dull/faded means sad. This could be anything from green-gray “I miss my friends” to teal-gray “I want the food you have so I’m doing puppy dog eyes”.

Black/dark/shaded means anger. So, the “dark blue- I hate you” translation is accurate, but could be more directly translated as “passive anger about you”.

**Movement indicates more subtle undertones and shows more about the alien's personality.**

Unlike the color and tint/shade, movement correlates with the noise the Sweet Voice makes.

“Up” usually means “carefree” and the sound goes up with it. "Down” means “pensive/thoughtful.” The sound goes down with it.

A connected string vs a jittery, scattered, or broken string shows composure vs lack thereof. The tones will also be smooth or fragmented along with the lines.

A straight line vs a swirling line is just a bit of a personal flair- some aliens are just more straightforward or more poetic than others, to put it in human terms.

* * *

**Examples:**

Teal-green "heal beam": health-need + caring

Blue "Calm down": pretty self explanatory

Dark red "revenge": excitement + anger

Pale yellow "worried surprise": surprise + fear

Green to blue "nice to meet you": friendly + chill/neutral

Sometimes there will be a whole rainbow of colors that doesn't mean anything in particular, it's just like singing for fun. All in all, it's a sort of imprecise language, but hopefully this guide makes it make a little more sense.


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter and it's only the prologue? You must be kind of disappointed. But don't worry. The neat stuff is on its way.  
> Chapter POV: G-man

**Thirty-six years before everything goes down.**

He's always busy. One might think that wouldn't be an issue for someone with time powers, but it is. He has places to monitor. Plot devices to place. Something like phone calls to make. An interdimensional equivalent of trains to catch. And now, somehow, there's a smaller version of himself following him around. He's not sure why or how— nobody’s sure, really— but it's... nice. It's enjoyable to have someone to teach and to talk to, about things other than deadlines and strategies.

**Thirty years before everything goes down.**

Almost exactly six human years later, certain things start lining up. The manager says things are shaping up for an "apocalypse plotline", whatever that means- he isn't allowed to know the details. What it _apparently_ means, though, is that he has to make a lot more trips than he did before, and to more... "dangerous" places. This wouldn't have worried him before, but now that he has this… well, this child tagging along, who can't even teleport yet, who can't even shapeshift properly (He himself was a bit of a late-bloomer in that regard, though, and he still can't manage to get the eyes right), well, it's a bit more of an issue.

He decides that he needs a safe place to put the child, until he's done arranging things. What's the human concept called? Babysitting. And he hasn't been told much yet, but it would be hard _not_ to pick up on the fact that a certain New Mexico science facility is supposed to be the start of the apocalypse thirty years from where he is. Which means that until then, it will be very well protected by the Plotline Protocol. And if this child was kept there, he would also be very well protected.

So he picks a name ( _Tommy_ will need a name if he is to be living with humans for such a length of time) and puts together a little human disguise for Tommy, one that looks like a much younger version of his own default disguise (Why mess with a good formula?). He then summons a gift- one of those propeller hats, that's something human children wear, right?

The train stops, and the door opens to a room empty of people, with a small table and a couple of chairs, a microwave, a bulletin board, and two vending machines. " _This is your stop,_ " he says, gently shoving Tommy forward, forcing him to step off of the train. As soon as he does, Tommy appears sitting at the small table. The train door closes again.


	3. Why is There a Kid Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Coomer becomes Tommy's new Mad Science Dad, since his old one was clearly not up for the job.  
> Chapter POV: Dr. Coomer

Dr. Coomer was having an ordinary day- well, as ordinary as it could be in Black Mesa. He had five clones of himself connected in a hivemind and was scheduled to receive cybernetic enhancements that would let him extend his arms later that week, so most sense of normalcy had flown out the window. But still, he didn't expect to receive a phone call from Dr. Amber Slide from the Cybernetics Department, saying "Your small clone is crying in the break room, come pick it up". He knew where his clones were at all times- their minds were linked, after all- and none of them were, at the moment, in any of the break rooms. And what did she mean "small clone"? All his clones were about an inch shorter than he was. Why did she feel the need to specify?

When he entered the break room, he learned the answer: the "clone" she was referring to was a child. And it _definitely_ wasn't one of his clones! But then how had he gotten here? Nobody brought their kids to work! Most of the people here didn't even have kids! He assessed the situation. The kid was wearing a little suit, and had his black hair slicked back, as if he was ready for Picture Day or the Elementary School Concert, but he also had some kind of goofy hat on his head. It was a strange combination. He was no longer crying, as Dr. Slide had mentioned, but the tears still stained his cheeks and he wasn't bothering to wipe them away. He was sitting at the table very politely, with his hands folded, but Dr. Coomer could hear his feet kicking against the legs of the chair-

_-One of the basic pieces of[furniture](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Furniture), a **chair** is a type of [seat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seat). Its primary features are two pieces of a durable material, attached as back and seat to one another at a 90° or slightly greater angle, with usually the four corners of the horizontal seat attached in turn to four legs—or other parts of the seat's underside attached to three legs or to a shaft about which a four-arm turnstile on rollers can turn—strong enough to support the weight of a person who sits on the seat (usually wide and broad enough to hold the lower body from the buttocks almost to the knees) and leans against the vertical back (usually high and wide enough to support the back to the shoulder blades). The legs are typically high enough for the seated person's thighs and knees to form a 90° or lesser angle-_

-those Wikipedia-streaming neural implants would need some fine-tuning. He hadn't wanted to look up what a chair was! He made a mental note to talk to the Cybernetics team about that at his next appointment. What was happening, again?

Right, this weird kid. "This child is an anomaly!" He declared. "Do you know where he came from?"

"He was here when I came into the break room," Dr. Slide answered. "Just sitting in there with the lights off, like a creep. Thought he must be one of yours, since the cloning project's the only place kids could come from inside of here, and he wouldn't have been able to get in from _outside_."

"Did you ask him?"

"Well, yeah," she said, "But it wasn't much help. Just said something about a train stopping. Talked kinda weird, too, sorta spooky. Look, if he isn't yours, he's some kinda horror movie ghost child, and I want nothing to do with him."

Well, someone was going to have to do something about this. And, seeing how strange this whole thing was, he knew it was inevitable that the folks in the Biology wing would want to run some experiments on the kid. But unlike his coworkers- who were, nevertheless, invaluable assistants when he was perfecting the hivemind clones that he used as back-ups of his consciousness- he had standards. A child was a creature full of potential, and it would be much better to let it learn and grow than to keep it in a cage and study it.

"Hello, anomaly!" Dr. Coomer greeted the child. "What is your name?"

"My name... is Tom-my." Dr. Coomer could see what Amber meant by "talking weird": Tommy's words seemed to not quite fit next to each other, like an off-brand lego set or a cheap jigsaw puzzle. But lots of little kids had trouble with words, so it wasn't really that strange.

"Hello, Tommy!" He answered back. "I'm Dr. Harold P. Coomer. I have no idea how you got here!" First thing to do was to give this kid a check-up. Would be good to establish if he was even human or not, before making assumptions that could hurt him.

"I'm afraid I'll have to give you a check-up! Uh, follow me, please?" Dr. Coomer didn't have that much experience with kids. But at least he had a bit of practice, from that one time the clones had all been de-aged— although, their minds were all connected with his, which had made it a bit easier. One thing he knew, though, was that kids got lollipops after check-ups.

"Hmm. We don't have lollipops here.” He thought out loud. “I can give you soda after your check-up, though! Just... follow me!"

To Dr. Coomer's partial surprise, it worked. Tommy climbed down from the chair and followed him out of the room. He led Tommy back to the Biology labs, keeping him close at all times. When any of the other scientists gave him an odd look, he just gave them an unsettling stare and said "This is _my_ project." It always worked. He could be very intimidating when he wanted to.

Back in the biology lab, Dr. Coomer gave Tommy a routine check-up: height, weight, etc.

"Alright, Tommy, how old are you again?"

"Six... years old," Tommy answered. He was kind of tall for his age. Other than that, nothing seemed particularly unusual about him. Perfectly nor-

-Wait a second, his eyes were-

-no, they weren't reflective. They were just a very bright, blue-green color. Maybe the Wikipedia-streaming neural implants were messing with him more than he thought. Oh, well. That's what he had clones for! If something went really wrong, he'd just start over as a clone.

Now, there was one more very important question. He thought he already knew the answer, but he ought to check, just to be safe.

"Tommy... do you have a home or a family? Where are you supposed to be?"

Tommy looked confused. It almost seemed like he didn't know the meaning of those words. But then he said sadly, "I'm supposed to be here, Mr. Coomer."

Dr. Coomer politely ignored the incorrect title- Tommy was only 6, after all. But- supposed to be here? Was he another experiment? He didn't _think_ that was the case. None of the other biologists had argued when he said Tommy was his own project. So then, what on earth did that mean? Well, it didn't matter. If Tommy was supposed to be here, he'd have to find a place for Tommy to live here.

"I'm sure I can find a place for you. Oh, right! Soda!" He walked into the hallway and purchased a can of lemon-lime soda from the vending machine. When the can was handed to him, Tommy looked at it for a moment like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

"It’s soda, Tommy!" Dr. Coomer explained. "You’re supposed to drink it." Apparently, Tommy still didn’t quite understand, because he grabbed the soda in both hands and _bit into the can as if it was a fruit._ The fizzy liquid spilled out of the uneven hole that the child had torn in the side of the can with his teeth. (HOLY COW the kid was strong.) Tommy proceeded to lick the spilling soda from the side of the can, before drinking from the hole he had made. Dr. Coomer tried very hard to not be alarmed. This was cool! Everyone’s unique, Tommy shouldn’t be an exception! Superpowers are great! But he had to admit, even just to himself, that he was at least startled.

"Tommy, I—" he cut himself off before he even got halfway through his sentence. "That isn’t the proper way to open a soda can. But I can teach you that later."

Dr. Coomer tried his best to teach Tommy all the things he needed to know, but he had implants and cyborg parts and cloning techniques to test, so he couldn’t be there _all_ the time. So, he decided to give Tommy a tour of things that he’d need to know. He showed him where the cafeterias were, where the bathrooms were, and how to follow the lines on the walls. He told Tommy about Clearance Levels and how there were some rooms he wouldn’t be allowed into, but reassured him that he’d almost always be let into the Biology labs if he said Dr. Coomer sent him.

He also got Tommy a tablet and showed him how to look things up on Wikipedia, to keep him from getting too bored. “The free encyclopedia _anyone_ can edit!” He enthused, excited to share one of his favorite things about the internet. Wikipedia was amazing, one of their greatest inventions: anyone could add onto it, and correct each other, and anyone could access its knowledge for free! It was inspiring! And now that Black Mesa had bought Wikipedia from whoever owned it previously, it also meant that they got to do things like "create a device that can stream Wikipedia articles to your brain." Which they had done, and it was great! Except for the times when it still pulled up articles he didn't need- but that wasn't going to be a regular occurrence. Overall, it was a plus.

What was he thinking about again?

**Twenty-five years before everything goes down.**

Five years later, Tommy was sitting at a desk, attempting to memorize Wikipedia in alphabetically-organized chunks. This goal was made more reachable by Black Mesa's addition of an alphabetical index to the site, but Dr. Coomer knew that it was still very ambitious. He didn't want to tell Tommy that, as it might discourage him, and who was he to get in the way of a child's dreams? He had made a rule that there was a certain amount of other things Tommy needed to get done first- math, writing, things like that- but now it was Tommy's free time, and he was back at it, plowing his way through the "A" section.

"Actiniopteris," Tommy recited. "Actiniopteris is a fern genus in the subfamily Pteridoideae of the family... Pteridaceae." He looked back at his tablet. "Yes! Got it right!"

"Hello, Tommy!" Dr. Coomer greeted cheerfully once Tommy had finished speaking. He had some good news to share. "The cloning project is finally running perfectly! I now have upwards of TEN clones active at all times! Which means, I can leave the clones to handle things for a while and take a day off! Now of course, I plan to use this to get more enhancements, and to spend more time in the boxing ring, but I thought we haven't been hanging out enough lately, and we should go somewhere to celebrate! Is there anywhere you would like to go, Tommy?"

Tommy gave him sort of a confused look for a couple of seconds before deciding on an answer. "I wanna, I would- I'd like to be a scientist, so I can see the- the other rooms."

High clearance? As a celebration? Seemed kind of a strange request. The mixology department, for example, was hardly a Six Flags. And he wasn't in any position to give clearance anyway, especially to an eleven-year-old. Even if he was a genius eleven-year-old. (And Tommy _was_ , in fact, very smart. Even if he didn't appear so at first glance.) But if he wanted to be like the other scientists, maybe Dr. Coomer could make a costume for him, with a little name tag and everything.

"Oh! Well, I don't know what I can do about getting you clearance, but I could at least find a lab coat for you." Dr. Coomer replied. "But you'd really rather see the other labs than go somewhere fun?"

"Where's somewhere fun?" Tommy asked.

"Like, the boxing ring! Or a museum! Or Dunkin Donuts! I've always been a fan of Dunkin Donuts! Or Chuck E. Cheese's- I think lots of kids like to go there!"

"Okay. Let's go there."

"Which one, Tommy?"

"...All of them?"

So, they went to all of them. The boxing ring didn't hold Tommy's attention for very long. The museum was a bit better, although they didn't get to stay that long. They only got to look at a few dinosaur exhibits before it was time for lunch. For lunch they went to Chuck E. Cheese's. The pizza wasn't very good, but Dr. Coomer ate it anyway, to set an example. Tommy merely picked at the pizza. The soda, on the other hand, they both enjoyed, and Tommy seemed to like all the bright colors and the games. After that, they took a walk through a nature park and stopped at a Dunkin Donuts before heading back. Dr. Coomer ordered a coffee for himself and offered to buy something for Tommy, but Tommy said he didn't want anything there.

Suddenly, he realized something. He didn't know Tommy's last name. He didn't even know if Tommy _had_ a last name. He had known this kid for five years. He had basically adopted this kid (although not legally, but plenty of the stuff they did was illegal anyways, so it hardly even mattered), he had taught Tommy so much, and he _didn't even know if he had a last name_. HOW the heck had he never even thought about this before?

"Tommy?" He asked, sitting at one of the small tables in the donut shop. "Do you have a last name, or is it just Tommy?"

"I... I don't have a last name, Dr. Coomer."

"That’s okay, Tommy!" The scientist responded, relieved. If there wasn't a last name there in the first place, he didn't have to feel guilty about not asking for it earlier.

"You can always pick one!" He added, in case not having a last name made Tommy feel left out. Besides, a last name would be useful later on, when Tommy was older and would maybe consider getting a degree. Dr. Coomer watched Tommy stand up from his chair and walk around the store, looking at all the signs. Had Tommy even heard what he'd said? But then Tommy came jogging back to the table and said,

"Coolatta."

"What?"

"Coolatta is my- my last name."

"Alright then!" It was a strange pick, but Dr. Coomer had to admit it was much better than his own last name. "Tommy Coolatta it is!"

A couple of days after their outing, Dr. Coomer presented Tommy with a labcoat and a custom nametag that read "Tommy Coolatta". Tommy put it on and wore it proudly, immediately going to the breakroom to show the other scientists that he was now one of them. They all smiled and said various nice things, except for one who said, "Still have a while before you get on my level." Someone else said something like "Hey, don't be rude to him!" But Tommy didn't seem bothered.

He still wore that propeller hat with his little lab coat, which struck Dr. Coomer as strange- how did it still fit him after five years? He had definitely grown a lot since then- and it must have been an illusion, but it almost looked like he'd grown slightly taller even since he'd put the lab coat on. And his eyes weren't quite as startlingly green, and his face wasn't quite as square. But it must have just been a trick of the light or something. Funny what an outfit change can do.

In lieu of getting Tommy that high-level clearance he had wanted, Dr. Coomer gave Tommy another tour of the facility, this time showing him more than just the bathrooms and cafeterias. He showed him all the different Departments, and if they couldn't go in, he at least let Tommy peek through the windows. He showed him the waste processing area and the Powerade-making area, which looked worryingly similar to each other, the only difference being that the Powerade was blue and the toxic waste was a glowing lime green. Of course, he showed Tommy these particular two locations from a distance. And he showed Tommy the train system, which usually, _usually_ , got everyone to work on time.

The trains were the only part of the tour Tommy didn't like. He was intrigued by all the labs, and the Powerade, and trying to figure out from the small glimpses he got if the waste processing plant was OSHA-approved, but when they got to the trains, his whole attitude changed. He got quiet (well, even quieter than he had been before) and looked like he was remembering something sad, or something scary.

"What's wrong, Tommy?"

"Can... we go somewhere else, Dr. Coomer?"

"I don't see why not!" So, they headed back to the nearest break room to get some sodas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy, the kid who magically appeared in the breakroom and bit through a metal can: *exhibits nonhuman behavior like shapeshifting a little once he gets a lab coat*  
> Dr. Coomer: "Eh, probably just imagining it."


	4. Strange Abilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy lookin' kinda sus; a small alien robs the Halloween Store; Gordon plays in the mud and sand.  
> Chapter POV: Tommy, Benry and Gordon, in that order.

**Twenty years before everything goes down.**

Tommy was sixteen years old and was tired of being treated like a kid. And it wasn't like he was going to be _rude_ about it, but. He felt like after living here his whole life, he should at least be able to go see some of the more secret areas.

They had locked him out of the more important parts of the Biology wing, too, as soon as he was old enough and knew enough to actually help out in there. That was not... that was like... like waiting until a bird knew how to fly, then telling it to stay on the ground.

And... he didn't want to be rude about it... but. He could maybe do something else. He could go into the rooms when nobody was looking. He was sure he could find a way in. Air vents connected all the rooms, didn't they? He could crawl through the vents like, like a prairie dog in its tunnels. He liked prairie dogs. Even if they weren't real dogs, they were still amazing creatures.

He got into a lot of new places crawling through the vents like that. The Powerade room, the Cybernetics Department, the Chemistry Department, which had been affectionately nicknamed the Mixology department... the Wikipedia server room, although that one had been accidental. It was amazing to think of how much knowledge was contained in those computers, but they weren't really much to look at. Wikipedia was easier to access from his tablet, anyways.

Somewhere in his nightly travels, he lost his hat. It was a shame, he'd always liked that hat, but he told himself maybe the other scientists would start thinking he was more grown-up if he didn't wear it. He- he didn't really want that little kid stuff, anyway. And at least he knew it wasn't destroyed in green goo, because he had lost it before he started sneaking around Waste Processing. Now he could finally take a good look at this place. He'd never been allowed in here before! It was kind of beautiful, with all that glowing green, but it was also a mess. Was this place OSHA-compliant? He had memorized the entire OSHA guidelines handbook, ~~but that had been years ago and all the new things he was learning and memorizing were taking priority in his brain~~ and he was pretty sure it was. He was pretty sure Black Mesa was doing a good job. He had faith in them. ...Even if they kicked him out of the coolest parts of the Biology labs.

Speaking of the Biology labs, that was his next stop, he'd go there tonight. He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't gone there first, honestly. Maybe he was saving the best for last. Or maybe he had hyped himself up about it and didn't want to be disappointed. But he had seen all the other places that interested him, so that was where he would be going tonight.

It was kind of strange how he'd been able to stay up so late so many nights in a row, without getting significantly tired. He had seen some of the other scientists do the same thing for only one night, when they needed to fill out a report or something, and the next day they always moved slowly and had trouble paying attention. Tommy never really seemed to have this issue. He did get tired, and he always needed to sleep eventually, but he was discovering that he never needed as _much_ sleep as the others.

Food, also, was something he didn't need as much of. He'd eat any food if it was offered to him, of course: it's a gift, and he'd be glad to accept it. But on his own, he survived mostly on candies and soda- which, according to everything he'd read, would be very unhealthy, but it didn't really seem to be affecting him at all. Maybe the soda was why he never needed to sleep as long as his teammates? Maybe it- maybe the sugar or the caffeine improved his alertness and reaction times, helped him see faster, and that's why he never moved slowly or lost focus after staying up too late. He wasn't sure, but that was his working hypothesis.

Sometimes, if he had enough soda, he could see things a split second before they happened. There was another point towards his soda hypothesis.

He was taking online classes. Once he finished, he could begin online college, and eventually get the rank of "Dr." just like Dr. Coomer. And he was pretty close to finishing. This "school" stuff was easy. Science was fun, math made sense, and history was ridiculously easy- a class where he just had to remember when things happened? Dates and times came naturally to him. English was the only class that really challenged him that much, but it was still interesting, especially the figurative language. Similes and metaphors, rhymes and alliterations. They stuck in his head better than other combinations of words did.

When school was done for the day, he closed his laptop that he'd been given for his birthday last year. (He'd gotten to choose his birthday, too, and he'd picked the day that Dr. Coomer had found him. He didn't remember the event that well himself, but he remembered when it was.) He started reading some Wikipedia again- he was in the "M" section now- but got sidetracked on the page about the film _Mercury 13_ when he clicked the link that mentioned a website called Rotten Tomatoes. Feeling frustrated, like a cat that's let a mouse get away, he turned off his tablet as well and decided to go read what the billboards had to say. (Okay, so _technically_ they weren't billboards. Billboards were the large advertisements posted on the sides of the road. But "bulletin board" was an awkward combination of words to think or say, and besides, sometimes advertisements were posted there.)

The billboards always had something interesting to say. Sometimes there were safety notices, which were always a good thing to see. Sometimes, there were ads for soda, or for company events. Sometimes, people would write notes in their own handwriting, rather than printing them out. These notes usually said things like "If the food in the mini-fridge doesn't have your name on it, don't eat it" and "Whoever destroyed my microwave casserole, I will have my revenge." Today, the board was covered with printed flyers and memos that he couldn't read. It was like someone had made the text too small, and resized it improperly, so now it was all blurry and pixelated. There must have been a problem with the copier or something. There were a few words on one of the memos that he could make out, though. Scattered across the page, in between the much less legible words, it said:

You

Are

doing

a

good.

job

Even though it was probably meaningless, just another quirk of a faulty copier, it made him smile. It was like the universe was encouraging him.

As he let himself into the closed-off section of the Biology Labs, he shut his eyes, waiting until the last moment to take a look at what was inside. Unfortunately, this meant that he fell out of the vent rather clumsily, and made a lot more noise than he meant to. Fortunately, the only things in the room to hear the noise or see him fall were the creatures.

There were creatures. Beautiful and strange alien creatures, some of them floating in tubes, some of them sitting in cages. He stepped closer to one of the dog-looking creatures- the tag said it was called a "peeper puppy" in Dr. Coomer's handwriting, but someone else had crossed that out and written "houndeye"- and reached out to pet it. The houndeye growled at him and stomped its front feet, creating a shockwave that shook the table where its cage sat. Tommy jumped back. "Hostile creatures," he whispered, and moved on to explore the rest of the lab.

It was really amazing to see. These alien creatures that he had only heard the smallest amount about before today. The big screens with diagrams of DNA being compared on them. The tubes where Dr. Coomer's clones had been created. This was the first time that it sunk in for him how big a deal it really was, that they had created clones who shared a mind with each other. That was something entirely new, that they had created. It was sort of beautiful. Very strange, and beautiful, like everything in that lab.

_How could they keep this from me,_ Tommy wondered, but his grudge was already fading, as he had a new plan and goal. He knew what he needed to do now: he needed to become a biologist, and in the meantime, read Wikipedia and ask Dr. Coomer everything he knew about biology.

* * *

~~**BENRYBENRYBENRY**~~ landed on the ground in a world that was not full of eyes. The shapes around him stayed the same. Nothing appeared or disappeared. This was disconcerting. How could everything be so still, so unexpressive? The darkness was not pure, the colors were not bright. Light emanated from one point, in the direction that was harder to move.

It was harder to move in the direction of blue, but he could move parallel to green and almost-black and brown. He sang orange as he flowed across the green-brown and almost-black, and kept going until he ran into a wall of near-white, which made him back up quickly. He flowed around until he found a way around it, a door. (He assumed it must be a door, they were a little different where he came from, but the idea seemed to be the same.) He went through the door and was, in fact, in another area. There were straight lines that held colorful objects in greens and purples and oranges and an approximation of black. He had had enough of orange, he was plenty orange himself at the moment, so he reached- flowed against the force that made it hard to move towards the light blue- climbed the straight lines until he could reach one of the green objects.

Yes, green would be good. He needed some green.

This was a shape he had seen before. The few things that did move around were roughly in this shape. Perhaps if he were to move better here, he should be in this shape as well. He wrapped around the green object, evenly, and made a couple eyes for himself near the top. Ah, there was a downfall: he could only see in one direction. He made a few more, just so they could go all the way around the top. Then he started gliding along the gray until he reached the door again. He couldn't go through it this time. Orange. Orange regarding the door. It was being trouble without reason.

Yellow. Was the object the problem? He tapped the door with one of the long bits of the object. It could interact, but it could not go through. He would have to go through by interacting, then. A strange way of doing things. He grabbed the part of the door that stuck out and- Yellow, followed by just a little dark blue. The settings of this door said it was not the right time to use it. It would be open later, but the area was not yet unlocked. He knew how to change that, though. Settings like that were easy to change. The door made a small noise that indicated the change, and this time, when he tugged on the door, it opened.

The feeling of exploring this area was a very magenta thing, with little bits of yellow and orange, and leaned more and more towards purple as the things he saw became more familiar. The other moving things- not the large, shining ones that followed the almost-black, but the tall ones that were shaped similarly to himself and could move more freely- always moved away from him. The shiny ones didn't even react. Maybe that was just how it worked here, but it turned his song green-gray. There were so many things he had seen and felt since he had arrived, and he wanted to share them with someone, but the only possible someones moved away or didn't change at all.

* * *

Gordon Freeman was 7 years old, and he was staying home from school because he was sick. He was not happy with this. Unlike most of the weirdos in his class, he actually liked learning things. It wasn't fair, sick days were supposed to be fun. He could watch cartoons as long as he wanted. But he didn't really feel like watching cartoons. He was stuck here, sitting on the couch, doing nothing. Missing out on learning lots of cool stuff. Bored, bored, bored. He took another sip of apple juice and pulled his blanket up higher.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but at some point, he woke up and looked out the window. There was a shimmery blue puddle in the backyard that didn't quite look like water. Even if it was water, he was pretty sure it hadn't rained. He went outside to see what it was.

The puddle was a greyish blue color, with sparkles of white in it, and looked thicker than water. _Glitter glue,_ he decided. In the center of the puddle was a lime-green plastic Halloween skeleton that Gordon thought it looked pretty neat. He went to pick it up, but the glitter glue sort of stuck to it, so he left the skeleton there. He didn’t want to get all gooey. He could get in trouble for that.

The glitter glue rose up and shaped itself around the skeleton. Gordon jumped back, startled. Then the glue-skeleton creature sang something that made a little blue light appear, and Gordon forgot to be scared. It almost felt like a dream, like these bizarre happenings could be perfectly normal. The glue-skeleton creature opened three eyes and held out a hand for a handshake. Gordon still didn’t want to get his hands sticky, but as he watched, the creature’s hand changed, appearing less like runny glue and more like rubber, so he shook it.

“Are you an alien?” He asked. The creature nodded. He asked the alien if it wanted to be friends, and it nodded again, this time singing green lights into existence. They spent a while playing in the sandbox together. Gordon asked a bunch of questions about aliens, and the alien didn't seem to understand most of what he said all, but somehow their teamwork on the sandcastle was still flawless.

Gordon eventually went back inside because he was thirsty. After drinking the rest of his apple juice and using the bathroom, he decided to go back to sleep. When he got up and looked out the window again, there was no skeleton or alien or puddle of glitter glue. He figured he must have dreamed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy: "I can do [nonhuman thing]. But I can also do [other nonhuman thing]. So it balances out."
> 
> Benry's dimension, to put it in Minecraft terms, was full of Creative-mode players constantly using cheats. Everything was chaos and nothing was permanent. But it was chill, because that's the sort of world they were meant for. He's just a lil' baby boy right now, just a little 12 year old slime boi, and he's playing in a dimension he isn't built for, so it'll take him a while to learn all the cheats probably. Hence why he still struggles with gravity.
> 
> Also, sorry if Benry's section is a little too confusing. He still mostly just thinks in colors at this point. Don't worry. Next chapter, after he's learned some stuff, he will sound more like the Benry we know.


	5. Progress, Pranks and Prototypes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Benry have wildly different college experiences.  
> Chapter POV: Benry, Forzen, and Tommy, in that order.

**Sixteen years before everything goes down.**

Once he had figured out how to look like a human, he could go basically anywhere he wanted. School? Yeah, he'd walk right in the middle of the crowd, sit in on a couple of classes, and leave. Some things were cool, some weren't. Like. History? Boring. Music? Cool. Sports? Kinda funny, really. Watching them fight over a ball. And the people on the sides got so riled up, too. They made these wacky loud noises when they were upset, that he found hilarious, even more so because they were upset about something so small.

He was also "so small". He could've been taller if he wanted, but it was just more convenient to slip through small spaces and go unnoticed when he didn't want to be noticed. And when they did notice him, they would underestimate him, and not expect whatever he was about to do.

He rarely talked to anyone. Words were weird. The way they described things was... kinda a little off from how he experienced things. And the way they used colors was a little wack, too. Just a little messed up, just a little incorrect. But being among humans as if he was one of them was a great deal better than having them run away from him all the time.

Now he was sneaking into other places. Skating rinks. Zoos. Concerts. Anywhere he wanted. The experience of going to new places was magenta, but couldn't compare to the bright red of getting away with it. Stroll into the bowling alley with his soft hat on his head- saved him the trouble of having to make hair for himself- walk up to the counter and ask for a pair of shoes. Blow a string of green at their face, and they're his best friend now. Of course they give him shoes. Doesn't matter what size, he can make them fit. Let his face change a little as he walks past people. Make'em do a double-take. Triple-take, even. If someone gets too riled, tell'em to **calm down**. As funny as it was, the yelling got annoying after a while, and it could get him thrown out. Or the yelling person would get thrown out. So really, he was doing this for both of them.

**Thirteen years before everything goes down.**

One day he heard about college, which he figured was like school, but like, leveled up. Expensive, too- not like that was an issue for him. He didn't have to buy anything else. Not even food- he didn't even have to go into a building to get it. Humans were really dumb with how they left all the food on the ground and in cans outside, but that just meant more for him. Anyway, if it was expensive, that meant it was probably really neat. So he found one and snuck himself in. It was a little trickier, since he had to argue his way into a place to live there, too, but he ended up succeeding, and getting a roommate.

* * *

Forzen hadn't thought he was going have a roommate, but maybe he should've expected it. It looked pretty chill tho, the guy he was rooming with seemed pretty nice. Weird sense of humor, tho. He asked his roommate what his name was, and his roommate answered with some kind of... low, wavy-sounding noise. How did he even make that noise?

"I... sorry dude, don't think I heard that right."

His roommate made the noise again. Forzen was starting to get annoyed. "Kay, uh... how d'you spell that?"

His roommate was silent for a couple seconds, and said, "Benry. B-E-N-R-Y". Which- first of all, was that even a real name? Eh, there were probably weirder. And second of all, "Benry" sounded nothing like the noise he had made before.

The name pranks didn't stop after their first meeting, either. Forzen had entered Benry in his contacts as "Benry," just as he had said it was spelled, but one day Benry looked at his phone screen over his shoulder and said he had spelled it wrong: There was supposed to be another "E" in there somewhere. And Benry- or Benrey or Beenry or Benery- wouldn't tell him where. There was one day where Benry insisted that his name was, and always had been, "Stong". Forzen just sort of rolled with it, and the next day his roommate was back to calling himself Benry again.

Another thing he'd often do was introduce himself and Forzen to strangers by other bizarre names that seemed to be corruptions of ordinary names: "Jefferem" and "Tomathy" for example. Forzen had to admit, it was pretty funny. He had to keep himself from laughing when one of his teachers asked his name and Benry shouted from behind him, "Billiam Joshford." That teacher now knew him as "Billy" and he had no regrets.

After a couple weeks, it was clear that his roommate's sense of humor wasn't the only thing strange about him. For one thing, how he seemed to like eating food from the trash can, even though he could just go to the cafeteria. It wasn't a matter of not being able to afford a meal plan, Forzen had _seen_ Benry in the cafeteria before, eating large quantities of mac and cheese with ketchup on top (Who the heck puts ketchup on mac and cheese? Benry, apparently). It seemed to be a preference- Benry actually _liked_ eating garbage food. Or maybe he just liked people's reactions to seeing him eat garbage food, but he never seemed to gag on it, even when it looked gross.

"You really shouldn't eat that," Forzen warned him once. "You'll probably get sick."

"There's no.. there're no predetermined, uh, illnesses bro." Benry responded through a mouthful of half-eaten garbage-burger. "Ever go to philosophy class? Gotta... level up that brain knowledge. They'll tell ya." And Benry never did get sick from it, which Forzen hated. Not that he wanted his friend to suffer, because he didn't, but he wanted to be proven right. Because he was right! But none of the evidence was backing him up.

There were more weird things about Benry, too. Like, he talked like a gamer, but apparently knew nothing about video games? Which meant, as his friend and roommate, it was Forzen's duty to teach him. Good thing he had brought his Playstation with him, and that it had two controllers. Benry always had time to play with Forzen, and Forzen wondered sometimes if Benry was skipping classes for this. Come to think of it, actually, what even was Benry's schedule? He didn't seem to have a regular pattern of leaving and re-entering the dorm. But then again, Forzen hadn't really been paying attention. Their schedules didn't get in each others' way, and that was all he really needed to know.

One day, they were playing some racing game, just chillin', talking about Youtube channels. Well, Forzen was talking about Youtube channels, and Benry was just listening. He had loads of recommendations for gaming youtubers Benry should watch to learn more. Benry seemed really into gaming, and especially gaming concepts like cheats, hacks and glitches. If it was an option, he probably would have majored in it. He had never mentioned what, if anything, he was majoring in. But that was fair. Neither had Forzen.

In any case, they were playing some racing game, and getting really competitive. It was a close game. But eventually, Benry won. Forzen was proud of him: this was the first time Benry had beaten him in any competitive video game. They were both laughing: Benry, presumably from the joy of winning, and Forzen, partially from the joy of succeeding at teaching his friend something and partially because _dude._ _Benry laughed like a freaking evil villain._ It was hilarious! He cackled like he'd just come up with an evil plan, not like he'd beaten someone in Mario Kart!

And then- what? There were little yellow and red and green bubbles flying out of his mouth with a sound like a slide whistle. "Hey bro, what was that?" Had he... eaten soap or something? That was the only explanation he could come up with. But they were too brightly colored to be soap bubbles.

"singing," Benry answered.

"But, like... that's not, singing doesn't make... colors."

"uh yeah, it does."

"No it doesn't! Not on its own!" This was more than a prank or oddity. This was... this was a... not possible thing. "Did you eat soap or something? Food coloring? This is like... it's weird, bro."

"What? Scaredy Forzen? Scaredy lil beyblade boy? Afraid of a lil music?"

"No. I'm not _scared,_ I'm _annoyed._ You're avoiding the question. You're hiding the truth. What's going on, Benry?"

"I'm not human."

"I asked you for the _real answer..._ "

"That's the real answer. I'm not human." Benry took off that funny winter hat he wore everywhere, and for a moment, Forzen couldn't see the top of his head- there was nothing there. Then the top of his head appeared, bald, and his skin turned gray, then blue, and more eyes appeared in a circle around his head. Forzen screamed a little and stumbled back. The creature whistled more colorful bubbles at him, this time a soothing blue color.

"calm down bro. it's **just me**." ...Right. It was just him. His friend that liked to play video games. Who was also an alien from outer space. Which was... was fine. He was feeling a lot calmer about it now. This was pretty cool actually, to have a friend who was an alien. And it explained a lot, too- the weird food choices, the impossible noises.

"So, like, aliens laugh in colors?"

"I guess. Talk, too, sorta. It's a, a whole language kinda thing."

"...Nice."

* * *

It was almost time for exams, and Tommy was more stressed than he would usually be. He knew the material, and he _knew_ that he knew it, but it was such an important thing that he couldn't help feeling a... appreh... He couldn't help feeling like a kid that was about to get on a roller coaster.

The exams weren't the only thing that was giving him the roller-coaster feeling. Seven years ago, he had been so excited about working in the Biology wing, and he still was excited, but. Some of the things that were happening in the biology wing were a little... worrying.

Once Dr. Coomer's clones had been perfected, the Biology lab had wanted to move on to bigger and better projects. It had taken a while, since Dr. Coomer still needed the lab space to produce _more clones._ (That in itself was a little unsettling: there were about thirty clones in the building at all times, there was no way Dr. Coomer needed that many!) But once more space was free for the others to use, they started on their next project: the Perfect Human Project. The concept, as far as he understood it, was this: if they had perfected creating clones, why couldn't they make an entirely new human instead, one without most of the flaws they had? One that's its own person?

Tommy didn't really understand what they meant to do with the perfect human once they were created. If the Prototypes were anything to go by, they would become a janitor or lab assistant. Kind of an underwhelming job for someone who's meant to be perfect. Actually, there was a lot about the project that he didn't understand. For one thing, all the prototypes were adults- they had always been adults, just like the majority of Dr. Coomer's clones, which were always the same age as Dr. Coomer. But would that really make a human more perfect, to have never been a child? Children learn very quickly. Did they not want the perfect human to learn? It seemed kind of counter-productive to Tommy.

He asked Dr. Coomer about this one day. Dr. Coomer wasn't working on the Perfect Human project, but he was working in the same labs, so he would likely have at least some idea.

"They're injecting the knowledge through tubes in their brains!" Dr. Coomer enthused. "Fifteen years of school and college, over the course of three years! Nature is beautiful!" Tommy had no idea what he meant by that. That was... not natural. Nature had absolutely nothing to do with that.

"What is- how is that nature? If they... tubes aren't supposed to be there."

"Of course they're supposed to be there! That's how the experimen-- Hello, Tommy!" He said, as if he had only just noticed Tommy standing there. Even though they had just been having a conversation.

"Hello, Dr. Coomer," Tommy answered awkwardly.

"What were we talking about? I'm sorry, I just- Having clones is a lot of work, Tommy! I can hear everything they're thinking!" Dr. Coomer said with unnerving cheerfulness. "Nothing to worry about!"

"A-alright, if you say so." Tommy answered. If Dr. Coomer didn't want him to worry, he'd try not to. But still... "Do you think you have too many clones?"

"Oh, I could never have too many clones! They're wonderful!" Dr. Coomer answered. "And if I did, I could always just kill them. No need to fear!"

"Alright. I... okay. I'm going to go study now." The metaphorical roller coaster was slowly going up, and Tommy felt like he was just beginning to see the drop ahead of him.


	6. Hello, Dr. Coomer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Coomer is making something other than Mac and Cheese, and nobody can stop him.  
> G-man has a confusing conversation with a hivemind.  
> Dr. Coomer decides that maybe he needs to stop himself.  
> Chapter POV: Dr. Coomer, G-man, and Dr. Coomer again

Dr. Coomer stood in the cloning lab of the Biology Department.

Dr. Coomer stood in the cloning lab of the Biology Department.

Dr. Coomer stood in the cloning lab of the Biology Department.

Dr. Coomer stood in the cloning lab of the Biology Department.

Dr. Coomer stood in the cloning lab of the Biology Department.

Dr. Coomer stood in the cloning lab of the Biology Department.

Dr. Coomer stood in the...

He hadn't been in here in a while, and he missed it. He spent more time getting upgrades than doing his own work at this point. Not that he really had much work of his own, anymore. After developing the cloning technology, had he really done anything significant?

After developing the cloning technology, had he really done anything significant?

After developing the cloning technology, had he really done anything significant?

After developing the cloning technology, had he really done-

Sure, he accomplished quite a lot with the help of his clones, but none of the ideas were his own. Which was ~~possibly a good thing, as he could hardly keep track of his own ideas anymore~~ awful! He was just as smart as he'd always been, and he'd become practically just a lab assistant! Or... many lab assistants.

Or... many lab assistants.

Or... many lab assistants.

Or... many lab assistants.

Or... many lab assistants.

Or... many lab assistants.

Or... many lab assistants.

Well, if that was all he was useful for, he'd use it. He'd become even more of himself, he'd overwhelm them all, take over all their projects. Eyes all over the building. They wouldn't be able to contain him.

_-A **container** is any receptacle or enclosure for holding a product used in storage, [packaging](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Packaging), and [shipping](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shipping).[[1]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Container#cite_note-1) Things kept inside of a container are protected by being inside of its structure. The term is most frequently applied to devices made from materials that are [durable](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Durable_good) and are usually at least partly [rigid](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stiffness)._

_A container can also be considered as a basic[tool](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tool),[[2]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Container#cite_note-2)[[3]](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Container#cite_note-3) consisting of any device creating a partially or fully enclosed space that can be used to contain, store, and transport objects or materials-_

Three hundred clones. Dr. Harold P. Coomer was making three hundred clones of himself, _and nobody could stop--_

 _..._ him.

Someone walked into the room. He could hardly see who it was through the swarm- flock? herd? pack? -of _himself_. He had gotten used to thirty clones, but three hundred was very different. Three hundred minds, all slight variations on his own. Three hundred pairs of eyes, all looking in different directions at different angles. It felt like he was lagging, like the world was running on a slow computer. Finally, he saw who had entered the room. It was Dr. Cheeseman.

"Hello, Cheeseman!" He waved cheerfully, every one of him. As cumbersome as it was, he was proud of his accomplishment.

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Dr. Coomer. You were not authorized to do this. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

* * *

There is something powerful in Black Mesa, they inform him, that isn't supposed to be there. Something decidedly not human. When they say this, he tenses up. He is certain they are talking about Tommy- what else could they mean? But then they say that it appeared quite recently, within the range of a few human days, and he is confused. He never lets this show, of course. Better to pretend that he had already been monitoring it in silence, than to admit it had slipped his attention entirely.

Of course they assign him to go deal with it. He didn't expect anything different. He isn't planning to do any fighting, that is never part of his plan (he always uses the threat of an impossible battle against stubborn humans, and he can deliver on that promise if necessary, but battling something that is on his... level, so to speak, isn't his specialty.) He is just going to talk to it, see where it came from and what it wants, and convince it to leave the story alone. Perhaps bribe it with Playcoins. Call in reinforcements only if necessary, to contain it.

He steps off the train and into the hallway closest to where the anomaly is. A handful of humans see him, but it doesn't matter. Whenever they see him, they assume he is someone higher up in their own company structure, and don't bother him. (He thinks it's strange how some of them look so similar, though.) Soon enough, he finds the room he's looking for. Inside is one unique human, plus many, _many_ of the same identical humanoids he had seen all the way through the hallway. Individually, they were insignificant enough for him to mistake them for humans, but grouped together, their power is undeniable. They are a hivemind, and the creature his employers said isn't supposed to be there.

He stops time for a moment and steps carefully around the frozen human. He takes a quick glance at the hivemind's... passport, that's a close-enough word, just long enough to gather the hivemind's name.

"Greetings, Doctor Coomer..."

"Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stranger!" "Hello, stra-"

"...Yes. I _heard_ you the first... time." He sighs. "What are you do-ing here, inter- _fering_ with our... projects?"

"I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Research Facility!" "I work here, at the Black Mesa Re-"

He checks the passport again. It seems the hivemind speaks the truth. "But what _is_ ...your pur-pose here?"

"I work in Biological Research! But that will probably change soon." "I work in Biological Research! But that will probably change soon." "I work in Biological Research! But that will probably change soon." "I work in Biological Research! But that will probably change soon." "I work in Biological Research! But that will probably change soon." "I work in Biological Research! But that will probably change soon." "I work in Biological Research! But that will pro-"

He sighs again. It _does_ realize that it doesn't need to use _each and every one_ of its voices whenever it speaks? It doesn't make it sound intimidating at all, just annoying. And either it is _really good_ at playing dumb and can modify its passport somehow (he'd never met anything that could do that), or it really doesn't know what is going on.

"The... plot needs to progress. If _cer-_ tain things do not, happppen, the story, will turn out... in,correctly. You do not want to make us, your enemies... do you? Stop pretending you... don't know what I mean."

"Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stranger!" "Story? What does- Hello, stra-"

"Ssssssssso, you really _don't_ know." Interesting. "Do you even know, how to use, _Play_ -coins?"

"Playcoins™ are a mechanic in video games that allow limited cheating, or the skipping of hard levels." "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are- "Playcoins™ are-

"If you, want to think about it as... such, I suppose that is an... adequate description."

"...Does that mean this is a game?" "-ean this is a game?" "-ean this is a game?" "-ean this is a game?" "-ean this is a game?" "-ean this is a game?" "-ean this is a game?" "...Does that-" "...Does that-" "...Does that-" "...Does that-"

_What a ridiculous question._ "It may be, to _some._ We take it... a bit more _se_ riously. _...In_ nn any case, I think you were, not meant... to be this powerful. If there is a _way_ you can un- _do t_ this, ...it _would_ be greatly ap- _pre_ ciated if you did so." There isn't much else he can say. This hivemind seems more inquisitive than antagonistic, and he respects a curious mind. It reminds him of his own tendency to do a little "snooping," even when he isn't required to. It also reminds him of Tommy.

He gets back on the train and unfreezes time quickly, so that he doesn't have to hear its next, clamoring reply.

* * *

It really wasn't that implausible that he was in a video game, as disturbing as the thought was. He had felt pretty, well, laggy ever since he'd made his 300 new clones. And then someone had appeared out of nowhere and threatened him to not mess with a story, and said something about Playcoins. But he didn't want to think about that possibility. He _really_ didn't want to think about that.

Not that all these clones made it any easier to think. Maybe he really should get rid of them.

"Dr. Coomer? This is your third unauthorized use of this lab, and there's no way you need that many clones. They're going to have to demote you to Waste Management for that, you know." Oh. Dr. Cheeseman was talking to him again.

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!"

"Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Cheeseman!" "Hello, Che-"

What was he thinking about again?

"Don't you 'hello Cheeseman' me. You're in trouble, and ignoring it won't make it go away."

They were demoting him to nasty sewage boy for the clones. And he couldn't even focus. Could've punched the guy, knock him out and make him forget this whole conversation, but he could barely remember which of his bodies had the enhancements. And he'd see more scary supernatural suit guys maybe. He'd never seen the scary suit guy before he had the hivemind, and he didn't want to see him again. (He did look kind of familiar for some reason, though.) He didn't want to think about plot or Playcoins or any of that, and he had a feeling the guy would only come back if he stayed like this.

Cheeseman was right, he had to do something about the problem.

_Kill._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone stop praying for Grandpa, he's become too powerful.
> 
> (It's not a game, but having three hundred clones would make your brain feel a little laggy. Coomer has ascended, and he wasn't supposed to. He's just got a normal human brain, he can't really handle it. It seems G-man and Dr. Coomer had a bit of a miscommunication there, huh?)
> 
> Since physical money would mean nothing to beings like G-man, but they clearly still have some sort of economy, they deal in Playcoins. One playcoin represents being able to do one (1) impossibility or make one (1) medium-sized change. A cheat-pass for breaking the laws of the universe in an impactful way.


End file.
